Prugh

If A cud sell a biggin plot,

Or win tha fitba pools,

A’d pit it by wi guid intent,

No spen it like Tam-fools.

Ye’r no supposed tae big up prugh,

It’s whit tha guid buik says.

A’d gie a wee bit tae tha kirk;

Tha mair, whit winner daes?

A nice new hoose, a motthor-car,

There’s naethin wrang wi that.

It’s no masel A’d dae it fur —

Tha femlie’s whaur it’s at.

Fur charity begins at hame,

An A hae wife an wean.

A’ll tak iz aa on holiday;

The’ cannae gan their lane.

A’d no be apt tae gamble it,

Or dicht a boadie’s ee:

If A jist sell’t a biggin site,

Or wun tha lotterie.

Ye cudnae credit it ava!

Ma nummer haes cum up.

A’m feert tha nighbers micht fin oot —

A maunnae loss ma grup.

A taen maesel aff tae tha sin,

Wi twa-three mates o mine.

Tha wife she’d rether stap at hame.

Tha wean? Ach, he’ll be fine.

A wud hae gien some tae tha kirk,

But whit d’ye think the’r at?

Anither fool new car-pairk scheme —

A’m damn’t A’ll pie fur that.

Whan A cum hame frae holiday,

Frae sin an simmer wine,

Tha wife had fun a bran new hoose,

But left me houlin mine.

Fur she had no jist fun a hoose —

Anither man forbye.

She sez tha catter’s changeit me.

A cannae think for-why.

An upset hoose’s a pooerfu coast.

A’ll niver hae eneuch.

A’ll hae tae dae a wheen mair dales,

An gaither some mair prugh.